


Reader, I Married Him

by aralias



Series: A Gothic Romance [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Biting, Gothic, It definitely isn't a dream, M/M, Spit As Lube, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27479206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: The unprintable missing scene from 'Tyrannus'.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: A Gothic Romance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006359
Comments: 28
Kudos: 127
Collections: Carry On Through The Ages





	Reader, I Married Him

**Author's Note:**

> I can only apologise for what you're about to read. 
> 
> In real life, I recommend neither spit-as-lube ([the internet told me it's historically accurate](http://rictornorton.co.uk/eighteen/sex.htm), but I might well have used some sort of grease or oil if I'd been able to work out how to get it into the room), nor flowery descriptions of sex. Stay safe from both. 
> 
> I also don't recommend reading this if you haven't read ['Tyrannus'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27406528), which has less sex and no kissing, but is also a bit more faithful to the gothic.
> 
> I did not wish to trouble either of my fine betas with this. Feel free to point out mistakes, although I will try and correct them before you find them.

_Winchester, 7 th Nov. 1851_

_Dear Madam,_

_Thank you for your kind words in response to what I fear must have been a very strange and bemusing disclosure. I’m sure, even with your own interests and whatever S may have told you regarding me, you can have scarcely imagined what my letter might contain! Indeed, had I not lived through the events described, I’m sure I should doubt them, as they are so far at odds with existing scholarship in the field. Yet I assure you, every word is as accurate as may be allowed by an imperfect memory._

_You asked whether I could shed any further light on the experience of being bitten by a vampire, which, as you note, is an experience I briefly indicated I have undergone with no further word on the subject. Was it, in sensation, similar to the dreams I have already described, or another thing entirely?_

_This, you must understand, is a subject of some significant sensitivity between Mr. Pitch & myself, and he is absolutely resolved nothing further should be said on the matter before the general public. It was for this reason (and some other, of which you are likely already aware) that I excised the chapter I now enclose from my narrative. _

_I send it to you now only on the understanding that, while the other pages I have already sent may eventually be published, these I send now must stay strictly between ourselves. _

_Indeed, though I understand better than any man alive the kind of curiosity that would compel you to seek further knowledge on this point, it may be better not to read them yourself – I am not at all convinced what I have written is suitable for the eyes of a lady, even an American one._

_(Basil tells me that, in his own view, this chapter is suitable for nothing at all, except perhaps the fire. A grievous falsehood in his case, however, for this week I found him engaged in the act of copying it in full before I could dispatch it to you, so I think he has found some use for it.)_

_If you do not foreswear my acquaintance entirely upon reading it, please write back with any further news about the gentleman you mentioned in your previous letter. I am extremely interested in his claim of being three hundred years of age when he seems no more than five-and-thirty, as this does not at all correspond with Basil’s experience!_

_Yours, etc._

**XV**

**Mutual Surrender**

The revelation of his history, and the true confession of his feelings regarding myself, had exhausted Basil entirely. I was therefore unsurprised when he told me he wished to withdraw and replenish his strength with the lifeblood of whatever game he was able to run to ground.

I did not ask if he wished to drink from me, nor did he request it, though I am certain that notion was in both our minds as he removed his caressing hand from my throat. Certainly, it felt hard that he should have to resort to rabbits when I had more than enough blood in me and was anxious to share it with him. But I acknowledged the holy place where his ancestors rested was an unfit location for such an activity, though it had seemed something like a sacrament in the vision we had shared.

I was extremely curious to see Basil at his hunt, but he begged me to return to the Manor rather than observe him. Though I now knew all and had pronounced acceptance, he told me he was still ashamed and wished to do what was necessary in privacy. I would have fought harder to remain, but he reminded me that he was not alone in needing to break his fast, and my mortal stomach drove me away from him and towards his well-laid table.

When we met again, towards the afternoon, I observed new colour in his pale cheeks and much regretted I was not the cause of it. I therefore inquired of him how often he needed to feed, and when he intended to next return to the woods in search of blood.

“Every day, or more,” was his embarrassed answer. And: “Tonight.”

This was as I had expected.

Before I could think better of my words, I told him he should not go, unless he truly wished it, but should instead at last fulfil the promise of our boyhood dream and take what'er he needed from my veins.

He was much distressed at this suggestion, and with many words and anxious looks, he gave assurance that he would rather be damned throughout eternity than cause harm to me – and would certainly rather endure the indignity of catching his own dinner.

This I dismissed, as I thought the harm would not be great and that, besides, he spoke more from hatred of his own person than from fear for me.

“You know as well as I that you cannot turn me, which would be the greatest hurt, unless I take your blood,” I reminded him. “Other hurts can be forgotten, even enjoyed, as surrenders may.”

This time as he flushed, I knew it was in response to my words and took pleasure in it.

“Please,” I urged, “come to me tonight, and not the rabbit, after the servants are abed.”

He could not look at me but nodded before seeking to change the subject entirely.

We passed a companionable day together and, in the evening, I bid him goodnight and retired to my room, as I had done the three previous nights. Rather than undress for bed, however, I merely removed my coat, waistcoat and boots. Then I anxiously awaited my friend at the window.

I felt some disappointment when he slipped instead through the door, as any other person might have done - but this feeling was swiftly overwhelmed with pleasure (that he had come at all) and with nerves (at what might occur now he had). For his part, I saw he had not expected me to be in my current state of undress and was alarmed by it, though he did not retreat.

I crossed the room to greet him and he met me halfway, reaching out a hand that faltered before it met my skin, so that I had to take it in mine and lay it on what I imagined was its intended destination: the curve of my throat.

I heard him draw a breath as he felt the steady thrum of blood there, pushed through my veins by a heart that beat faster when he was near.

“I have thought of little else but this all day,” he confessed. 

Laughing, I said: “I have thought of little else since first I dreamt of you.”

He groaned then, as though what I had said gave him pain, and drew me into a shuddering embrace – but still, his teeth did not pierce me. Instead I felt his hot breath against my skin as he repeated my name in tones that either indicated further agony or some other emotion I could not place

I drew back, so that I might observe his countenance and derive some meaning from it, and saw both torment and desire in his eyes. I surmised that he fervently wished to bite me, but was fearful of taking a step that would change our relationship so irrevocably.

I could not make him do it, nor reassure him with further words when those already spoken had failed to quiet his heart, but it was in my power to make a change of similar gravity and this I did.

I kissed him.

Not, I should say, a kiss as brothers may exchange, but as a new-made husband might kiss his own wife on the night of their union. Basil was some inches taller than me, and so the illusion would have been incomplete even if he had not been still fully dressed in the clothes and articles of a man, and handsome in a way that was distinctly male. But, though I had never before had any notion of being a molly, I required no illusion to stimulate me.

It was Basil I had longed for all my life, and Basil who I kissed now and allowed to clutch me to him.

When next I drew back, I found his face free of the pain that had ravaged it during the day. His fine eyes were bright with joy, and he took my hand and kissed it with no lesser passion than he had bestowed on my lips.

“May I understand from this,” he inquired, “that you view today’s events as I do? Namely, that you agreed to live with me, and that I surrender all my worldly goods unto you, before the sight of God in his house, and that therefore we are as close to being wed as two men may be?”

In point of fact, I had not expressed this thought to myself. I had acted without rationalising what I did.

Yet, as I heard Basil say these words, it struck me that he was correct – unless the truth was simply that we had been bound together long before this morning. This I said to Basil, along with my belief that I could never give myself to any other – and he fell on my mouth again with further ardent kisses.

We contented ourselves with this pleasant occupation for some minutes. But I was conscious we had, as yet, made no progress on the matter of his taking my blood, and eventually reminded him of it. Taking his hand, I drew him with me to the bed, and reclined upon it with Basil above me.

He drew a trembling hand over my cheek and dropped his head, so that he might kiss beneath my jaw. This was most alike to the dreams I had so recently had of him, and yet then I had been paralysed with fear and unable to move. Now, I was most assuredly awake and clasped him close, urging him to do that which we both desired and sustain himself with the sweet liquor that ran in my veins.

At this, his kisses became longer and more loving until, at last, he reached that point where my shoulder met my neck. There he fixed himself, and I felt a sharp, stinging pain as he breached my flesh with his cruel teeth.

Once he was settled, however, this discomfort mostly ceased. What I felt then was not the pure, unsullied rapture of our shared vision, but perhaps this was to be expected.

I had been a boy then. As a man, I found I took more pleasure in the weight of Basil in my lap, and in his evident enjoyment in drinking sweetly from my neck, as I did in the sensation of his teeth within me. Yet these pleasures were great indeed, causing a tightness in my breeches that might have shamed me had I not felt and heard how similarly Basil was affected.

Further happiness was gained when I considered that, in giving myself to him, I not only sustained his life but also showed him how completely I embraced even what he hated most in himself. In short, I was well content with the results of my suggestion.

He withdrew sooner than I had expected, looking down anxiously as he enquired how I did. I assured I was very well and then, laughing, that I wished _he_ might surrender to me and learn the joy of it. Alas, I told him, I was a bad billiards player and a mortal man, so could not drink from him, and he would have to be disappointed.

At this, Basil became extremely bashful and indicated that he was aware of several methods by which the requisite surrender might occur. 

Though most of my study had been focused on the supernatural, I was neither so naïve nor so unfamiliar with the fleshly world that I failed to comprehend his meaning. But to have the domineering master of Pitch Manor offer to sacrifice his body to my desire was a thing I had never thought and could scarcely countenance.

“You cannot wish me to take advantage of you in that manner!” I exclaimed in horror.

“On the contrary,” he said softly. “I wish for it with all my heart, if you are willing.”

I might have protested more for the sake of his dignity had the idea of taking him as a husband been any less appealing to me. As the situation stood, however, I believe it was impossible to do other than I did which was to beg him to remove the necessary clothing so I might do as he asked.

In this, he could not oblige me fast enough, though I admit I was scarcely less eager and divested myself of my own constricting breeches with much of his swiftness though less grace.

Once we both stood in our under-shirts, Basil took the hand he had earlier kissed back to his mouth and drew my fingers deep within the damp cave behind his smiling lips and sharp teeth. I thought briefly that he intended to bite me anew, but he had another goal in mind and instead lathed his tongue over my fingers until they dripped with wetness.

I could not think what he was about and said so, at which Basil coloured and explained:

“I have done excessive reading on this subject – thinking only of you having me, I assure you. Some further lubrication may be required to admit you into myself, no matter my eagerness.”

This pretty speech complete, he turned away with what I understood be a mix of shame and the keen desire he had mentioned. Then, he braced himself against the bed.

I followed his instruction and covered my aching hardness with moisture before moving toward him. He turned his head at my approach and met my eyes with his own heated gaze.

Now, I have several times mentioned how extraordinary his features were, but I assure you he never looked so well as he did then – his fine eyes flashing with desire, and the most secret parts of him exposed for no other but myself to look upon. Had I any residual doubts about binding myself to him, this sight would certainly have dispelled them.

And yet, I trembled. From the little Basil had disclosed, I was quite sure I was about to injure him, and the thought of paining the man I held most dear in all the world stopped me at the precipice. In that moment I understood his earlier reluctance to take me into his arms and despoil my throat. Yet, I reminded myself, he had done it, and I lived and was none the worse for it. Nor could Basil’s molten eyes be long resisted.

I pulled him to me in a clumsy embrace that brought our bodies into shocking contact, and he pressed back into me with a wantonness that surprised and inflamed me in equal measure. My manhood found his entrance and with some effort, on both our parts, I penetrated him.

As he had predicted, his body was more unwilling than his spirit to receive me. I heard him hiss in familiar pain as I continued to nudge myself slowly into his warmest depths until I was completely sheathed within.

Basil and God alone know the perfection of that moment. The pleasure I felt at being buried in him cannot possibly be described, and therefore I will make no attempt to do so. Here was the rapture I had dreamt of – I almost wept with delight. Still, I retained enough of my wits to do as Basil had done for me and falteringly inquired after his health.

He damned me for my question and my timidity, before saying in a shuddering voice: 

“I am yours, Simon, as you are mine. Take from me and give me nothing less than all you have.”

These words o’erwhelmed me, as I have no doubt he intended, and I drove myself relentlessly into him until he sobbed with gratitude.

This was not at all the limit of what I knew I could offer him, however. I could not rest until I satisfied him in all the ways I knew how. I had, until that point, had my hands firmly on his waist – I now used one to pleasure him, as a man sometimes pleasures himself, while the other hand I raised towards the sharp points of his teeth.

“Drink,” I entreated him.

Another sob left Basil’s shapely mouth, but his own words and feelings were against him. He brought my tender wrist to his lips and kissed it, before doing as I had asked and impaling me.

This time, I was at such a pitch of ecstasy that I felt neither pain nor discomfort as he entered me. The most arousing sounds emerged from Basil’s muffled lips and he quickly climaxed, spilling his white seed across the bed linen – but otherwise I might scarcely have known I was bitten. 

If I could have remained forever in that moment, I would happily have done so. But, alas, my undoing followed shortly from his own. As he panted and cursed me through my wrist, I spent myself within him and was still. 

Then, he and I each withdrew ourselves from the other until we seemed once more like two separate beings.

“Though, truly, as you say, we are of one flesh now,” I remarked to Basil, who called me both his own Simon and his darling, and declared he had never been so pleased in all his life.

I kissed him, tasting my own blood on his tongue, and agreed.


End file.
